Death and Other Interruptions

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Could I go through it all again? The months of hesitant approach, the layers slowly peeled back to reveal the intricacies of our inner workings? The confessions, the decisions to accept each other's flaws and faults? Even if I decided to give myself permission to date, was I ready for all the effort that was involved in it?

Knowing Ethan from a day in bed together was different than truly knowing him. Three years into my relationship with Al, I remember telling Amy, "I think I'm starting to know him," and Amy, who'd been with David for six years at that point said, "No, you're not."

God, how different those phases are from where I was with Al. After living with him for a year, I could tell when he had farted from another room just by hearing his post-fart sigh, distinguishable from his stressed sigh or tired sigh. That's not the stuff of love poetry, but it's just as important, if not more so, than how it felt to be in his arms or what I saw when I looked in his eyes. With Ethan he didn't even fart in front of me yet, keeping up that early dating pretense that you are the exception to the rule that everyone has gas. Did I have the patience—or the time, even—to learn an entirely new person?

If I did want to go through it all again, I wanted it to be with Ethan, that much I knew by now. We shared a bond that I hadn't even had at first with Al; with him, I had had to forge that connection over time. With Ethan, it was innate. I was comfortable around him, trusted him. True, we met under vastly different circumstances, but they didn't negate how comfortable he was to be around, how honest he was with me. Those were things I had never taken for granted because I had never found easily. To find it so soon was extremely lucky, I knew that, and yet that wasn't reason enough to give in to the risks of a relationship. At least not yet.

I sighed. This was heavy stuff for a doctor's waiting room. I looked around for something to distract myself, but the only magazine that wasn't Parenting or Highlights was being read by the trimmest pregnant lady I'd ever seen. I spent a few moments staring in wonder at her huge belly and tiny everything else, until she looked up and saw me watching, mouth agape in wonder. Hastily, I reached for the first magazine I touched. Highlights it was.

What that magazine was doing in an OBGYN office I couldn't tell you, but I remembered those corny stories and easy picture games fondly from my own youth. Stupid Kate Middleton could have her People magazine. I was learning manners and how to share.

I was called in first and shot the skinny magazine hog a superior grin. Very un-Highlighty of me.

"It looks like you might be pregnant," the Dr. Gonzalez joked as she looked at the images her minion had taken.

"That's a relief," I said, much more comfortable in this office than the first time I'd been here. "I was afraid I'd have to cut back on the ice cream."

She laughed. "No, no, you should definitely be having lots of ice cream. Fetuses love that stuff." She rolled her chair over to me and tilted her head. "So how have you been feeling lately?"

"If you're asking emotionally, I hope you took a psychiatric rotation, because I have some pretty messed up shit going on these days."

She laughed again, her short blonde hair swinging rhythmically. "We can talk about your emotions if you'd like, but I meant physically."

"Phew," I said. "I'm a little done with crying today. Um, I feel fine, I think! Nothing unusual. Back pains, swollen feet, a little more intense stomach pain than usual, but the books all say that's to be expected."

Books. What a joke. Every time I felt anything that worried me, I Googled it. The stack of pregnancy books that had accumulated on my nightstand was too intimidating for me to open any of them.